Heaven
by Destria
Summary: A last-chance angel. Meets her new ward. Spot Conlon. But what happens, when the person she's supposed to protect him from, is himself?( Not a Spot Suicide.)
1. Last Chance

Disclaimer: I own everything in this story besides Spot Conlon, and the President. Obviously.

Author's Note: I think this might be offensive to some people, who are extremely religious, so if it does… Don't read it. I hope y'all like it!

Dedicated to MoonShadow. The one and only. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shot echoed around the theater like a gong in an opera house. The entire world seemed to stop for a moment, and in all essence, it did. 

Vera Cheval sat in silent shock, as she watched the blood pour from hole in the president's head. She had failed in her mission, she was supposed to protect this human being, and she had let him die. 

_Damn it all to Hell!_ She thought viciously. 

_"Don't you talk like that Gabriella." _Her 'ears' perked, as she heard the booming voice in side her head. 

__

"What? It's just a figure of speech…" She mind-grumbled back at the voice, which happened to be her brother-Gabriel. 

_"Time to come back Gabby. You failed again," _she could practically hear her brother shaking his head at her. And thought with an odd sadness about the mess around her. 

__

"But I can help Gabe! I can help them-" She was cut off with a quick, but oddly gentle insistence. 

__

"You can't do any more for them Gab, you know the rules. Come on home, Dear." She felt a soft tugging in her stomach, and tried to fight it, but finally gave in. 

It would do no good, so she simply sighed in exasperation, before casting a last longing look about her in to the realm of chaos this theater had become.

_"Beam me up Scotty," _She thought with morbid humor, as the room before her started to fade. The colors bled into each other, the deep burgundy color of the curtains, mixed with the deep brown of the woodwork. Each slowly fading out of focus, and she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her stomach lurch, as she was transported from this world, upward. A long, long, way, upward. 

~*~

The first thing Gabriella saw, when she opened her brown eyes, was a smoky white cloud. 

__

Home sweet home, she thought ironically. And stumbled to her feet. She smiled slightly. It was an odd type of comfort, feeling the milky tendrils of the clouds curling around her hands, encompassing her bare feet, and creeping up her ankles. She still wore her no-nonsense black skirt, and her blue blazer. There was only one small difference, poking out of her blazer, right below her shoulder blades, were two gloriously large, white, soft, wings. 

She unfolded her wings, sighing as she finally felt them stretch out to their full extent, a full six feet wingspan. Long, even for an angel. It had been _sooo_ long, since she had done that. She forgot how good it felt. Like a summer breeze on a hot day, rushing threw your hair. But, as always, those moments end, and she sighed. Staring…Okay, more like _glaring_, up at the breath-taking sight, of the large golden gates. Both stood closed, beautiful to some, intimidating to others, but to her, they were just the same as the last time she had stared up at them.

Placed in front of the imposing gates, was a platform with a chair behind. In this chair, sat a very bored looking angel. He stared glumly down at the large book in front of him, chin in hand, and doodling absent mindedly in the margins, with a peacock feather quill. A long line of elderly, and young, people stretched out form the podium, and she quickly found a spot at the end of the line. There were only a few people in front of her, and she heard others pop in to existence behind her. 

"Name," The angel grumbled blandly to an old man. 

"E-Erick B-B-B-B-Bell," Said Erick obviously frightened. The angle scanned the page with bored eyes. 

"Heaven for you sir," He pointed to an angel, who had appeared beside the man. "Follow Cherise here, and she'll help you settle in." 

The man stammered thanks to the angel with the book, but he was already dealing with the next person. 

"Name," He said again, just as dully. 

"Susan Teller," the young woman sneered with a glare. 

The angle didn't seem to be affected, and simply scanned his book, turned the page to look at something else, and looked back up at the girl with a dry expression. 

"Well you _have_, been a bad girl, now haven't you?" he grinned, the first sign of emotion she'd seen so far. "Sorry, you don't pass the test Hun… Going _down._" He pushed a small red button on the desk, next to the book, and there was low beep. 

"Wait! I've changed! I-" but she cut off, for just then, the square of floor beneath her disappeared, and she fell, her screams carrying up to them. The angel looked vaguely interested, and stared down at the trapdoor, as it closed. He turned back to his book. 

"Next?" He said dispassionately. She stepped up to the podium. 

"So, where'm I goin' sir?" She asked with a smile on her face, waiting for the angel to look up. And look up he did, smiling when he saw whom it was. 

"Darien you old devil! How ya been?" She asked, jumping around the platform, and giving him a tight hug.

He laughed heartily, "Just because I've been at this post for over 300 years, doesn't mean I've stopped being angelic! How are you Gab? Did you fail again?"

Gabriella smiled sheepishly, and nodded. "They got me here just as soon as they heard about it…" She muttered bitterly, but Darien laughed again. 

"With good reason m'dear! You remember the last time they left you alone with a disaster, hmm? The whole Titanic business?" She blushed, but nodded sheepishly. 

"Well! I guess you've got an appointment with the big guy hmm? Well! I'll let you threw so you can deal with your brother before then." He returned to his podium, taking a small remote from a drawer, and pushed a button, it made a small beeping sound, and the golden gates started to open. 

"Christ's been jumpin' around the time tables again," Darien shook his head sadly. "Been givin' us all these wired machines and such. This thing was inspired by those car auto-lock, thingies…" he coughed. "Anyway! See ya in the next millennium!" He waved, as she crossed the boundary in to Heaven. 

She waved back at him, as she walked down the silver paved streets. Large buildings of gold, and bronze reached upwards around her. She thought it was all rather too frilly, but her opinion didn't matter. She wasn't even an Archangel! Just a simple assignment lackey, a bit above the average, but nothing special. In fact, she really only kept that title, because her brother was Gabriel. 

_Yes, **THE,** Gabriel. _ She thought bitterly. And just then, as if called by her thoughts, she saw his white-robed form turn a corner, and start running down the street to her. 

"Gabby!" he cried, running up to her still form and embracing her. "You're late!" He said immediately, releasing her. 

"I'm what?" She asked, confused. 

"Late!" he yelled again, grabbing her hand, before dragging her to the Town Square, where a large building made of gold stood. "For your meeting! I swear, Jesus is gonna _so_ kick you off the cloud for this one. Now come on! Fix your hair quick! You wanna look nice for this meeting!" He rushed ahead of her, clearly set on his task. 

"You're right Gabe, I should look nice. What do you think, is pink my color?" She asked, holding a corner of her left wing, and grinning evilly at her brother. 

"Oh no! No dyeing the wings again Gab!" He said hurriedly, pushing her inside the golden building and rushing her up the marble stairs and into a carpeted room, where there were rows, upon rows, of wooden chairs. Angels occupied some of the seats, others were very empty. 

At the head of the room, there was a dark wooden desk; behind it sat a young angel. Her wings died a deep purple to match her hair. She was putting a coat of purple nail polish on, when Gabriella and Gabriel walked up to her desk. 

"Um, excuse me?" she asked nervously, her brother already seated in a chair behind her. The girl glanced up at her and put down her brush. 

"How may I help you?" she asked with a fake smile, smacking her gum loudly. 

"I need to see Christ," she said bluntly. 

"Do you have an appointment?" Kerri-as her nametag said- asked cheerfully, and pulled out a schedule book from a drawer to her left. 

"Yes mam… And I think I'm late." She added sheepishly, and Kerri flipped open the brown book. 

"Name please?" she asked, all business. 

"Gabriella," Gabby said quickly, peering over the edge of the book. Kerri scanned a page with a purple colored fingertip, and tapped at one spot. 

"Here you are! My you are late, aren't you?" Kerri punched a button on the intercom. 

"Excuse Mr. Christ, there is a Gabriella here to see you." She spoke to the black box. 

"Does she have an appointment?" a booming voice asked. 

"Yes sir, she does." Kerri replied happily. 

"Send her in." was the short reply, and Kerri motioned her towards a door at the other end of the hall. 

Gabriella crossed the room as quickly as possible, opening the door, and stepping threw into the room beyond. 

"Gabriella!" Came the voice, which belonged to a small man, sitting on a thrown, at the front of the room. He opened his arms in welcome, and his dark brown skin shined in light. She smiled ironically, thinking of all those ridiculous paintings of Jesus on Earth. 

"Come in! Come in!" He welcomed, and she walked forward, and sat in the chair immediately in front of the throne. " We have things to talk about, don't we?" he asked, laughing. "You've let your ward die Gab…Again! What am I supposed to do with you, huh?" He shook his head sadly. 

"This is very serious Gabriella, _very _serious." He said suddenly. His face taking on a somber mask. 

"You have failed alm-" he was cut short, by a red light flashing behind the throne, and noise like a telephone rang out. 

She coughed after the fifth ring. "Aren't you going to get that sir?" she asked, but he waved it away. 

"I'll let the answering machine pick it up." And after the seventh ring, she heard a voice, that sounded suspiciously like Kerri's, sounded in the room. 

"Hello! You've reached Heaven, your prayer is important t us, please hold…" Gab had to stuff a fist in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. 

"I just installed it, helps a lot…" Jesus explained to her. "Anyway! As I was saying!" he sobered again. 

"This is very serious. If you don't start making some progress, I'll have to put you back to tours of the capitol building." Gab shuddered. 

"You've failed almost every mission you've been given... You can't mess this up." Gabriella listened with rapt attention.

"What's the mission, sir?" she asked, and he held out a hand that now held a picture. 

"This is your next ward. His name is Spot Conlon, he needs help." He explained, as she reached out for the photograph. 

"What's his problem?" she asked, tenderly taking the picture, and staring down at it. "I mean, _grrrrooow."_ She growled suggestively, and he laughed. 

"I don't know," he frowned, "that's the problem, he seems to have a certain… _nothingness,_ about him. Just…nothing…" for the first time, god, seemed to be thoroughly confused. And Gab wasn't entirely sure she liked it. 

"The year is 1900, you have to find out what, and who, this boy is. The door will transport you to the landing place, I'll pass your regards on to your brother." Gab turned to go, taking that as dismissal, but she stopped, With her hand on the doorknob, when she heard Jesus's voice. 

"And Gab," he told her seriously once she had turned to face him, "this is your last chance. Don't screw it up."


	2. Brook Lynn

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Newsies. Disney owns them. But I do own Roller, Gab, and Brook.

Author's Note: I hope ya'll like this chapter! Sorry I'm such a slow updater! I hope this quenches yer updating thirst for a while!

Shout Outs: IF I MISSED YOUR REVIEW, THANKS FOR REVIEWING!

Beaucoups of Blues: LOL. Here's the update! Yes, *sweeps on movie star glasses * my cool hip Jesus likes you too. *wink *

Slider: not hell per-say… she has to do tours of the capital building in heaven. But… oh, you'll see.

Morning Dew: Really? You're a minister, coolies dude. Hope you like this chapter just as much!

Harley: Thanks! I tried really hard to think of something original, so I'm glad my work paid off.

Frenchers: Pure hell… lol. I love how you put that. Well, I'm glad you like the "_groww" _line, I really hope people don't read it as 'grow' instead of gr-ow though… oh well! Hope you like this chapter!

~*~

The floor dropped off beneath her feet, and she fell strait down, threw a haze of black. Colors, trees, houses, and people flashed past her, around her, and it all blended together into one shifting mass of color. She was spinning, spinning so fast her breath caught in her chest. Nothing was the way it should be. She couldn't tell what way was up or down. Color was liquid, shining, and swirling. 

She felt she was going somewhere, an impending destination was sneaking up on her. Like the sound water makes, rising in a bottle. You know just the right moment, when it's going to overflow, and finally, it stops. And that was exactly what it did. She simply stopped, was suspended for one moment in the black abyss, and a picture came in to focus. A large river, no, an ocean. Docks, and wooden structures, boys swimming, and standing on the docks. It glimmered in the setting sun, and she wanted to see more, when Gabriella was suddenly thrust into the picture. The last thing she felt was the wooden docks crack against her head, and she blacked out.

~*~

"Who is she?" A whispered voice asked, bringing Gab back to consciousness. 

"I don' know," the other whispered.

"You think she's dead?" asked the first, and Gab smirked. Trying to remember what had happened to her to make her head hurt so mush… and she had it! Spot Conlon, Brooklyn, Docks, mission! She squeezed her eyes shut, and thought, hard, at the angel she knew was listening.

"_Okay Gabe, I'm here. Now, what's my background, what's my name?" _Gab heard a little bit of a buzz, but then her brothers voice rang in her head, loud and clear. 

_"Background? You're from England. You hitched a ride on a merchant ship, and have a very nice accent by the way; you can thank God for that. Literally. Okay, here's the deal. You're about as tall as this Spot person, you have black hair, you can find out long it is later._" Indeed she did, feeling heaviness on her side to about her waist. _"And you're a smart ass. We didn't need to implant that skill._"

_Okay, that should work. _Gab thought to herself, but then she remembered where she was. _"What about fighting Gabe? What about those skills?_" She asked urgently, hearing some whispering, and shuffling of papers in her head. 

"_Uh… you don't have any Gab. We're angels, not genies!"_ her brother told her defensively. She almost groaned out loud. 

"_ You mean you sent me to Brooklyn with no fighting skills?" _ She asked desperately. 

"_Um… yes? Hehe?" _her brother mind-sent her after a minute. 

"_Greeeeat. Fine. Well, if that's it, what's my name then?_" she asked suspiciously. She heard someone snicker on the 'other end'. 

"_ Rivers," _her brother told her, "_Brook Lynn Rivers." _

Gab rolled her eyes as best she could with out opening them. "_Thank you Gabe. You're a riot, really."_

"Anytime! Now! Get yer rear in gear girl!" And the tie between heaven and earth was severed. 

Gab, or 'Brook', as it was, gave herself a mental sigh, and turned her mind back to the mission. 

__

Time to work my magic. She thought to herself, and let out a soft groan, and rolled over on to her back. 

She heard the two voices jump, and back up, and her eyelids fluttered open. In front of her stood two young boys. One with dark brown hair, and the other with blonde. Each had chocolate brown eyes and a scared expression on their faces. 

"S'okay lads. I ain't gonna hurt ya." she told them, and almost jumped at her own voice. _ When they said British, they meant **British**._

"Uh, lady?" the one with brown hair asked, creeping closer to her, as she tried to sit up. There was a wooden structure behind her, and it was working really well as a backrest. 

"Yes, lad?" Brook asked, surveying her ragged blue breeches. 

__

"W-who are you?" he asked, crawling over and sitting down next to her. She laughed, raised her hand to slap herself in the head for her stupidity, but thought better of it. 

"My name's Brook. And who might you two fellows be?" she asked, looking at the red-checkered pattern on her shirt, and the fraying black suspenders.

"My name's Les, and this here's Roller," Les motioned for his friend to come over and Roller walked warily to sit next to his brown-haired companion. 

"Hey," Roller greeted her, nodding. She gave him a polite nod as well, and looked down at her feet. 

__

Damn, no shoes. First stop, cobblers, wait. Brook felt in her breeches pocket, and pulled out a small, draw string, leather bag. She pulled it open, and stuck a couple fingers in the little purse, pulling out what ever was in the little bag. 

"Two quarters, a nickel, and five pennies…" she said to herself, forgetting everything but her money for the moment. "Well, a nickel will by me food and lodging for a week as a Newsie. Maybe a quarter for papes the first day, means I make fifty cents tomorrow. That's seventy-five, eighty cents! That should do well for now." She stuffed the coins back in their pouch, and stuffed the pouch back in her pocket. Turning her head to look around at the dock. 

"Mighty empty for the docks, isn't boys?" she asked, looking back at them. 

"No ma'am, most of the boys 'er out sellin' the evening addition, the docks empty out during this time of the day. But Spot and his boys should be back in… oh? An hour Les?" Roller told her, turning to his friend who shrugged.

"Hour, maybe less." He replied. 

"Well!" she sighed, and stretched her arms, noticing a light tan. "Would both you boys be kind enough to help me up?" she laughed, holding out her hands. They looked at each other, and laughed as well, each standing up and taking an outstretched hand, pulling Brook to her feet. 

_Shit, they shrunk me! God, how short is this kid?_ She thought to herself. As an angel, she would have towered over these guys, now they were only about 5 inches shorter than she was. Which wasn't much, considering the age difference. 

"Thank you kindly boys, I'm much obliged. Now, I think I'm going to climb that structure, " She pointed at one of the wooden platforms on the docks, continuing to talk to them while she climbed, "and wait for mister Spot to come back."

"Brook, if you don't mind me askin', why are you waiting fer Spot?" Les asked, receiving a look from Roller that clearly said, 'it's none of your business.' 

Brook laughed, half way up the wooden platform, "Never you mind about that younglings. Let's just say... I'm his guardian angel." She grinned at them, and they chuckled again. 

"What ever lady, good luck waitin', I gotta get back to the lodgin' house, and Les needs to get back to Manhattan. So I wish you luck!" Roller called to her, grabbing Les's arm, and dragging him off the docks. Brook chuckled at the pair, and sat down on the platform. _So Spot's the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies, hmm? I can't wait to meet him. _Brook grinned, a settled herself on the platform. Prepared to wait for her new ward, how ever long it took.

~*~

AN: Please review! Tell me what ya think! What ya don't like! What you think should happen, etc. Please!


	3. Wooden Structures

_OW!_ Brook jumped, a very sharp something had just been jabbed in to her sleeping rib cage. 

"Up," a voice grunted form above her. Brook blinked open bleary eyes, squinting to see in the sun's glare. A dark silhouette loomed above her…Okay, not 'loomed', per-say, but close enough. 

"Yes?" she murmured groggily, stretching out heavily cramped legs. _Note to self; do not sleep with legs under body._

There was a slight nudge to her ankles, and she looked up. The face of her new ward looked down on her, trying desperately to swap a look of confusion with accusation. The sun glinted off his hair, and she shaded her eyes, _I want sunglasses!_ She mentally whined, and braced her legs to stand. 

"Who are you?" The boy, _Spot,_ Brook mentally corrected, asked bluntly when she had regained the use of her legs. 

Brook blinked again, surveying the crowd of newsies below them. _Funny, they're all very badly trying to pretend not to watch us. _

"Who are you?" he asked again, maneuvering in front of her face. Brook raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms and resting her weight on the foot behind her. 

"Well that all depends, who wants to know?" she replied with all-do cheek. Spot scoffed, and half-chuckled. 

"I don' think you quite grasp the situation sweetheart," he grinned. "Now, lets try this once again. Who are you?"

"Name's Brook Lynn Rivers," she thrust her hand in to his face. Spot blinked, simply staring the pale hand in front of him. 

Quickly clearing his throat, he swatted away her hand. "Excuse me?"

"Brook, Lynn, Rivers," She explained slowly, drawing out each syllable. 

Spot grinned in spite of himself, 'sheathing' his cane, and crossing his arms. "Well, _Brook_," he started, "what are you doing here?"

Brook raised an eye-brow, "Who the hell are you? A cop?" She asked, giving him the equivalent of the elevator look. 

Spot quickly lost his grin, "Watch it Hun." Brook resisted the urge to smack him, and listened to the little common sense she had. 

"Whatever you say," She snorted, and turned to the edge of the wooden platform. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm getting down… one way…or another." She grabbed the edge, flipping herself off, and landing with a _thunk_ on the docks. 

Mouthing curses about her now aching legs, she gave herself a mental note to never do that again. 

"You never answered my question," a voice called from above her, Brook looked up at Spot, and shaded her eyes from the sun. 

"Which was?" she asked.

"What are you doing here?" he reminded her with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

Brook thought about it for a minute. "Well, right now I'm looking for somewhere to stay. Now bugger off." She replied, turned on her heel, and walked down the docks. 

Feeling a soft tap on her shoulder, she turned, to find herself facing a chest covered with a dirty t-shirt. Looking up, she faced a boy wearing a woolen hat, she assumed was a Newsie. 

"Are you nuts?" he asked bluntly. Brook blinked for a moment, and replied unhurriedly. 

"Technically yes, but that's beside the point, why?" she smiled.

The boy pointed towards the docks she had almost left. "You just insulted one of the most dangerous boys in New York." He told her in disbelief. "You must be crazy." He insisted, shaking his head at her.

Brook shrugged, "If he has a problem he'll talk to me." She walked away from him, and almost felt the murmurs of crazy British wenches. 

_They'll come around,_ Brook recognized the voice as her brother's and smiled.

_I'm sure they will Bro, I'm sure they will_. 


	4. Change

Story: Heaven

Chapter:

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will I ever own (Damn it) the Newsies and/or any and all related material. I do own the plot however. 

Summary: A last chance angel is sent to earth on a mission to protect the one and only Spot Conlon. But as she grows to know the notorious leader, her own agenda may interfere with an attack that could kill both her new ward, and her self. 

~~~~~~

Brook adjusted to life as a Newsie easier than she'd expected. Getting up every morning, buying the papers, selling them, and coming back to a drafty bunk at night. It was a perfect circle, a perfect routine. Nothing would come between her, and her life as a Newsie. Nothing that is, but her mission. Her bloody mission. No matter how hard she tried, she simply could not get close to Spot. Every time she caught him looking in her general direction, he either walked away, or was surrounded by so many other newsies that she'd need a ply-bar to get to him. 

On one afternoon, right between selling papers and going to bed, at that magical time of the day that isn't night and isn't afternoon, when the sun has almost sunk beneath the sky-scrapers and lapping waves, Brook found herself drawn to the docks like a magnet to metal. 

Whistling some melody or other, she took each clambering step down the docks, and swung her feet over the edge. Not many boys were left by the water, all of them either swimming or talking, laughing, and playing ridiculous games. The sun stained the sky pink with dusky light, and sunk lower on the shaky horizon. 

"Well, well, if it isn't my dear Brook Lynn, back to grace us with her presence," a voice sneered from behind her. 

Turning around, she inclined her head in his direction, "Spot, how are you doing this fine evening?" She asked him, a smile plastered on her finely sculpted features. 

"What's so fine about it?" he asked her. His cane made a hallow sound against the boards of the dock, and she could sense the boy standing next to her with uncanny certainty. Heat radiated from his body, making a stark contrast to the chilling breeze on her face, and colder water surrounding her feet. 

"How was yer sell today?" she asked him offhandedly, not really thinking about what she was saying, but unable to simply sit there. 

"About 53 today, not too good." He told her, sinking to the wooden boards beside her. Brook gave a distracted nod, kicking up a spray of water in the evening air. 

"Water's cold," she told him, grinning at her own idiotic giddiness. Spot gave a small laugh. 

"Then take your feet out, stupid," he told her reasonably, giving a slight nudge to her shoulder. 

Brook giggled. Her mission was momentarily forgotten, and so were her fears. She felt as if she had known Spot for her entire life, as if they were old friends that had just met after many, many years away from each other, and it was a comfortable type of meeting, not those stiff 'How's the family?' conversations.      She kicked up another spray of water, watching the drops of blue-green liquid fall, and was sucked into the mass of swirling black, lapping at the dock edge. 

She was oddly comfortable there, sitting with her back to the world, and Spot by her side. They both stared out at the water, talking as if nothing had ever been any different between them. And that is exactly how she wanted it to stay. 

~~~~~

         The next morning, Brook awoke (as usual) to the now-familiar noises of an awakening city. Brooklyn, having no lodging house of its own, was home to numbers of street rats, sleeping in crates by night, and selling papers by day. Many of the Newsies would create bands of orphans, who would look out for each other. Brook had found herself one such band, led by a curiously young boy, named James, or 'Crumbs' as his band-mates had affectionately dubbed him. Crumbs had welcomed Brook into his pack of street children like she was the queen of some far off country, lending her some extra money when she was low, and sticking up for her when a boy got a little rough. 

         Brook had soon learned, that even if you were in a pack, it was each boy (or girl) for him/herself when it came to selling papers. That was one dilemma Crumbs wouldn't touch. If you got your selling spot robbed of ye, it was your own damn fault it happened, and it was your own damn responsibility to get the spot back, using whatever means you found appropriate at the time. 

         This morning, Brook knew something was different. It was the scent in the wind as it blew its first breaths threw town, and the taste of the water from the nun's shabby cart down the street.  It was something that was oddly familiar, yet eternally strange. It went against every fiber of inquisitiveness in her being to ignore it, but ignore it she did. She had made some headway on her mission last night, finally getting her chance to make friends with the notorious leader- Spot Conlon. 

         Brook knew right away that her entire outlook was changing; it wasn't just her connection with Spot either. It was the general feel of life at the time. She was really getting into life as a Newsie- worrying about her sales more and more, and her job less and less. If she lost any more interest in her assigned case she knew she'd be sent back to Heaven with a reprimand, and a big ugly "Uncompleted" mark on her record. 

         "Brook! Are we going down to the Distribution Office anytime this morning?" Crumbs yelled into her ear, making her jump backwards form the nun's wagon, and make her way threw the crowds with scarlet cheeks. 

         "Jeese, the girl spends one evening with the infamous Conlon, and she's already dreamy as a star-eyed puppy." She heard one of the boys murmur, causing the other to chuckle in agreement. Apparently Mr. Conlon had quite the reputation. 

         "Well he won't get to me," she promised herself, but something in her stomach had done a flip-flop at the memories of her night on the docks, talking with Spot. She pushed it out of her mind with impatience. "A job is a job, and a mission's a mission. And that's all there is to it." 


End file.
